Kevin Miller - Declared Hostile

“Fleet Forces Command — like you, sir.”

At that, Meyerkopf made a face and brushed Weed away with his hand. Seething, he turned to address his trio of captains. “So we take orders from Commanders, now?”

“Sir, all of us are following orders,” Matson answered. “We’ve been read-in to Century Ratchet on a need-to-know basis. Events have transpired to read you in, sir. Now, Admiral, our people are preparing for a mission to find, disable, and exploit this yacht—”

“On whose orders?”

“ Mine , sir, but only with your concurrence now. Rick and I are still in command of our forces, and we were attacked. We have a plan to stop further attacks, and we are keeping you, our senior, informed. You can stand us down, if you wish, and all will file incident reports to Norfolk. Now sir, while you decide on how you’d like to proceed, we must to oversee the efforts of our people while there’s still time.”

Ed Browne spoke up.

“Guys, let me talk to the Admiral. Please excuse us.”

“Yes, sir,” Matson said and led the group out of CVIC.

Once alone, Meyerkopf frowned at his Chief of Staff, fuming. “I’m all ears.”

“Sir, your pride is wounded. Fleet Forces tagged us to come down here and show the flag and exercise with the Colombians. While we are here we can train on the damn reactors, fly the kids in the air wing, and get some good port visits for the crew. All of that was a cover story for this, and Hopper and his guys are doing good work out here. They are practically shutting down the seaborne drug trade.”

“I’m certainly capable of safeguarding classified information!”

“I’m sure there were times in your career you were privy to classified info your superiors didn’t have access to. And now you are on the other end, and it is not wrong . Sir, I recommend you call Miami and tell them what happened and how you are dealing with it.”

Just then a staff officer entered. “Excuse me sir, but we’ve done the radar and data link forensics. Track 1724 is a yacht.”

“Very well,” Meyerkopf responded. “What do we have tracking it and how far away?”

“An E-2 sir, and a Fire Scout from Norman Kleiss . It’s 110 miles south of us, and we are closing it at 15 knots. We expect it to be in Colombian territorial waters in two hours.”

“Very well, please keep us updated.”

“Yes, sir!”

Once the officer left, Meyerkopf turned to Browne. “We are steaming at flank speed to catch this guy? Isn’t Sanders paying attention to his reactors?”

Exasperated, Browne answered him. “Sir, the reactors are fine. The shafts are fine, and the dosimeter readings are fine . We are in combat mode now, sir, and your people are briefing to deal with a proven blinding laser threat they will face in an hour. My recommendation, sir, is that you call the Combatant Commander and tell him Coral Sea has a plan and is ready for any and all tasking.”

Still sulking, Meyerkopf shot Browne a look before he turned on his heels for CDC. Browne wasn’t sure how his admiral was going to handle the next two hours, but Coral Sea’s aviators had work to do, and minutes counted.

With only thirty minutes to start engines, Wilson had no time for an elaborate strike brief. His Firebird division would consist of Dusty, Ripper, and Olive, with Coach as spare. Billy Martin was there with four of his Hunter pilots flying the FA-18E Super Hornet , and two crews from the Rustlers , the MH-60S squadron, were also present. A lieutenant from the SEAL detachment aboard stood next to him with a small notebook.

In minutes, Wilson and Billy had devised a plan: All the aircraft would launch and buster south as fast as they could, wasting no time for a rendezvous or a launch sequence plan; if the carrier aircraft could join up en route, that was good, but it was not required.

The Fire Scout drone aboard the destroyer Norman Kleiss would put a Hellfire missile into the fantail of the yacht — at the waterline if possible. The plan was to disable the yacht’s screws and/or rudder. With the vessel drifting, SEALS from the two Sierras would board the yacht, capture the crew, and gather what intelligence they could. With the vessel secure, Norman Kleiss would take it under tow.

All this would happen in broad daylight, and they could expect the yacht crew to be alerted for trouble. Chances were they were armed with automatic weapons, RPG’s and hand-held SAMs — plus the laser that had already blinded one pilot.

Wilson’s eight jets carried two 500-pound, laser-guided bombs each and full loads of 20mm High Explosive Incendiary bullets. With little time, the ordnancemen assembled the weapons in the magazine and were now in the process of transferring them via the weapons elevators to the flight deck where they would be loaded as the pilots were preflighting their aircraft. Wilson imagined the aircrew listening to him as he if were drawing up a sandlot football play in the dirt. You do a buttonhook. You go long. You hike it and go down-and-out…

Checking his watch, Wilson gathered them around him in the front of the ready room with a navigational chart of the Caribbean. “OK guys, the yacht is here tracking south at twenty knots. Looks like it is heading for Barranquilla. Let’s everyone start up on Firebird tactical freq to check in, and I’ll pass any updates. Once you are ready, the yellow shirts will break you down and shoot you ASAP. No waiting. If you are ready and a catapult is ready, go. Turn south immediately off the cat, and we’ll get together en route.

“By the time we get down there an hour from now,” said Wilson, pointing to a spot on the chart, “the yacht should be here , about 25 miles from the coast and only thirty minutes from the ‘safety’ of Colombian waters. Let’s haul ass supersonic in the low 20’s. Once I’m on station, I’ve got the mission lead with Skipper Martin as back-up. Let’s all check in with Condor, and we can expect data link from them to the contact. We’re going to call the yacht Lauderdale , and, when we refer to the laser, it is Lightshow .”

The aviators nodded and scribbled Wilson’s instructions onto their kneeboard cards. All of them were experienced, no nuggets on this impromptu combat sortie. Wilson continued.

“Once we are on top of this bitch, we’ll look for the Fire Scout to disable it. It has boat davits and a rigid hull inflatable. If they try to escape in the RHIB, strafe ahead of them to stop them until the Rustlers show up. Rustlers , pour fire into the yacht as required to neutralize it, and fast-rope the SEALS when you and the SEAL lead determine it is safe to do so.

“If they light us up with the laser, we back off. To mitigate that risk, let’s stay high and get on top of the yacht and stay tight on it. Try not to look at it with your naked eyes, Use your sensors to the max extent. “

“Sir, why do we have the weapons?” one of the Rhino pilots asked.

“If the Fire Scout can’t disable the yacht, we have to. Let’s use the FLIR and aim for a spot just off the fantail. Delay fuses. We want a water burst close aboard that disables the screws or rudder, maybe pops some engine room piping, or even holes the hull.”

“What do we think the effective range of the laser is, sir?”

Wilson opened his mouth — and realized he didn’t know.

“One mile, sir,” Shane answered, and the group waited for her to continue.